


Seeds in a Garden

by zombolouge



Series: Counting the Stars [1]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Clover is a bully, F/M, Indra will murder you if she feels like it and you'd probably feel honored, Other, Prequel, So don't say I didn't warn you, Tags will update as we go, The beginning of Seven's time at the agency, Violence, Warning: Do not get attached to the characters, badass secretaries, if you get attached you will have regrets, mysterious backstories, oh look it's Goldi, rough start, secret agent names, the Queen of Golden Thunder, weaponizing a pen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-21 02:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9528347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombolouge/pseuds/zombolouge
Summary: The legacies of all the people that helped to save a boy who deserved to have his future back.





	1. Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel story that covers the time that 707 spent working for the agency. It has characters that were introduced in As Bright as the Stars, but you are not required to have read that one first, as this one can stand alone. 
> 
> For those of you that have already read that one, though, OH BOY. WELCOME. THIS IS GONNA BE QUITE THE RIDE. ^_^

_I used to spend a lot of time not thinking about things. It was the first thing you learned when you joined the Agency. Don_ _’t think about it. Don’t question it. Accept the vagueness, and be happy that nobody ever told you the truth. The unknown hurt, but the truth was much worse. The truth was what would get you, would make you sloppy, make you disappear._

_That was what we always called it._ _“Disappearing”. Like Goldilocks was a magician, and we were all the rabbits that she pulled in and out of the hat. In the beginning, I thought it meant that people ran away. Maybe they escaped and found a better life. Disappearing was like freedom to me, and I used to be jealous of them. It wasn’t until later that I knew better, but by then I wasn’t thinking about it. It was better that way._

_Now, though, I think about a lot of things that I didn_ _’t used to. I think it’s probably time that I think about all the stuff that I thought it was so important to forget._

_I want them to be remembered. The good, the bad, and the ones that fell in between. I want them to have legacies, even if all that means is that their names get scribbled in the notes of this story. After all, they were a part of my world at one point. Whatever happened to make them disappear, they still existed. Even if nobody else outside of our group knew it, I did, and that means they mattered. They were real, and they deserve to be thought of. _

_Even if it hurts, I want to write their names down, and count them. All the people that I knew that disappeared. All the people that faded, but left a print across my memories. This is for them as much as it is for Klein, the man who only ever wanted his story to be told. But I think that_ _’s all any of us ever wanted, in the end._

_For someone to live to tell our story._

***

He pulled the blanket up and wrapped it around the frail shoulders that rose and fell with evened breathing. Red hair curled against the top of the pillow, draping across his forehead in ringlets that were damp with sweat. The grimace on his face had subsided, the terror in his mind soothed and put to rest. His eyes had finally fluttered closed, the nightmares driven away by the same bright stories that Saeyoung always told him. Every night Saeran would wake up screaming, and every night Saeyoung would lull him back to sleep with tales of the things that they could do when they grew up. Places they could go, the lives that they could lead. He built a future with his words, castles of hope and possibility, promises to make it worth living through the darkness. Promises that Saeran would have to keep without him, now.

He could feel tears burning in the back of his eyes and he swiped his arm across them, keeping them shut and blocking out the image of his sleeping brother. He would never get to see him smile, but just knowing that he would have the chance to start was enough. It would have to be.

He took a deep breath, holding it in his chest as he tiptoed away from the bedside. He slid the closet door open and pulled out the bag that he had prepared, grabbing his jacket and throwing it over his pajamas. He didn’t want to risk putting on anything else, worried that the sound would wake his brother, or the wasted time would shorten his window for escape. Not that he needed to rush. Now that Saeran had fallen back to sleep, he would be out until mother came to wake them, and she had been gone all night again, so it was unlikely that she would be awake before the afternoon. Saeyoung could stay a little longer, if he wanted. He could crawl back in bed and hold Saeran’s hand for just a little while. He could be a twin for another hour.

No. A minute, an hour, a day. It didn’t matter how long he tried to put it off. He had made his decision, and now he had to live with it.

He shouldered the bag and left the room, every nerve in his body screaming at him to turn around and go back. He felt like someone had filled him with static energy, and that every time he moved flickering shocks rippled over his skin. It made him nervous and jittery, his fingers shaking as he tied the laces to his shoes. When he was ready, as dressed as he was going to be, as packed as he was able, he stood in front of the door, staring at the handle.

It was goodbye without words. Saeran would wake up and find him gone, and he would never get an answer for where he went. But soon someone would come to save him, to take him away from this hellhole and give him the life that he deserved. Saeyoung didn’t need to be a part of it. Saeran would get to be happy, probably happier than they could have been together. His twin would never have to question why they were different again, because he would get to be his own person. That was enough. That was all that Saeyoung wanted.

He wrapped his fingers around the handle and twisted, pulling the door open and stepping outside.

It was colder than he thought it would be, and he shivered as he rushed down the walkway covered in overgrown bushes. They loomed over him, the shadows darkened by the lightless night, everything bathed in black and blue. The streetlights closest to their house had burned out ages ago, so as he stood at the edge of the curb it was like standing in a sea of darkness. There were lights on the shores, but they felt far away from him. Lights meant for other people, but not for him. He was building a raft to float with the inky midnight, carrying the burdens of a broken home so that his brother wouldn’t need to any longer.

He threw his shoulders back, steeling his nerves even as his knees shook. He walked down the street, away from his home, away from everything that he had ever known, away from the one person that he cared about. Well, the one person he had cared about until he had met Rika and V. They had saved them, in the best way that they could. They would get out of the grip of their mother, away from the reach of their father. It was freedom, even if it wasn’t pretty. Life never was, though. Otherwise he wouldn’t have to make this kind of choice.

He sighed and pushed his introspective thoughts away, not wanting to think about the gravity of the situation anymore. It was done, he was already on his way. No use dwelling on things that he couldn’t change.

It took him an hour to get to the meeting place, and it looked deserted, the spire of the church sticking straight up into the sky like a spear. In the daylight it was welcoming, but tonight it seemed ominous. Everything tonight seemed ominous. He knew was being dramatic again to think such things, which would have made Saeran laugh, and that made a pang of pain lance its way through his chest. Saeran loved to laugh at Saeyoung’s outlandish, bolder emotions. That was always why he made them bigger.

Anything for a smile.

He stood outside the doors, marveling at the stars. He wondered if there were other people that were looking at them with him, right now. Standing in different places across the globe, but staring at the same points. He was fourteen, and he was selling his future so that Saeran could have one instead. Were there people out there that were supposed to have been part of his life? Friends? Family? Was there anybody besides Saeran that would miss him?

“You’re in pajamas.”

Saeyoung jumped, his heart thudding in his chest as he looked in the direction that the voice had come from. It was friendly, though, and he recognized the cadence to V’s speech before he had fully materialized from the shadows. He smiled when he did, his hands tucked in his pockets as his mint hair hung over one of his eyes. He looked like the patron saint of benevolence, come to bestow soft light to the broken night. Saeyoung wanted to run and hug him, but he tightened his grip on the strap of his bag instead.

“Aren’t you cold?” V smirked, shaking his head.

“No.” Saeyoung sounded petulant, even to himself, and he tried to shake the fear and self pity out of his mind. He didn’t want V to know that he was struggling. He wanted V to be proud of him. He wanted V to know that he was grateful. He tipped his glasses higher up on his face, stretching his lips in a grin that he didn’t feel. “I’m fine, I can get dressed later.”

V chuckled, shaking his head. “You always know how to smile at the strangest moments.”

“Is Rika coming?”

The smile faded from V’s lips, but only for a second. “No, sorry. She wasn’t able to make it, but she told me to tell you that she loves you.”

“Oh.” He didn’t have much else to say, but the idea that Rika loved him made him fill with pride. She was a good person. If she could care for him, even knowing everything about him, even knowing what he was about to do, then maybe he wasn’t a hopeless case after all.

V sighed, looking at the sky. “They should be here any minute.”

“When will you get Saeran?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.” V didn’t look at him as he spoke, his gaze millions of miles away in the cosmos.

Saeyoung wanted to argue, but he couldn’t find the words, so he shut his mouth and stared at the ground. They remained that way, couched in silence and starlight, unmoving as the breeze seeped through his thin pajamas and ate away at his bones. There were a lot of things that he still wanted to ask, questions that burned like candles behind his eyes, filling them with tears that wouldn’t fall. He had asked them all before, but instead of answers all he had been given were looks of pity, looks of despair. He couldn’t bring himself to voice them again. He couldn’t bring himself to make V look sadder than he already did.

They didn’t hear any footsteps, but somehow both Saeyoung and V knew when the men had arrived. They strolled out of the shadows wearing suits that looked like they belonged on Bond villains, pressed and preened to a fine, crisp finish. They were both tall, both white, both stone-faced and cold. Colder than the wind.

They nodded greeting to V, and V returned the gesture. Saeyoung could tell that they had met before, and he wondered where V could have run into such people. They were forbidding, the cruel fizz of anger boiling just beneath their stares a looming warning that they intended no friendship to anyone or any thing. These were not benevolent men here to take Saeyoung to a better world. He had been warned as much, but thinking of it as an abstract and experiencing it in person were two very different things. Reality settled over his shoulders like a shawl of concrete, and he trembled beneath it.

“Jesus, look at him. He’s like a fucking lamb.” The man spat on the ground, glaring and shaking his head.

The second man grinned, leaning forward as he strolled up to stand in front of Saeyoung. “Now, Agent Cadence, you know better than to question our benevolent benefactor.” He reached out, taking Saeyoung’s chin between his fingers. “After all, this might be some bigwig’s new _pet_ that we’ve been sent to fetch.”

Saeyoung jerked his head away, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe your boss just needs someone who isn’t so big and dumb.” The man he had called Cadence started to laugh, and the one in front of Saeyoung swung his arm, backhanding Saeyoung across the face with enough force to send him toppling to the ground. Bright spots of color flashed in front of his eyes as he inhaled dust and dirt, his palms scraping against the broken concrete. He tasted something coppery against the tip of his tongue, filling the front of his mouth.

“Shit, Clover, you had better hope you’re wrong about the pet thing. You damaged his lil’ bitty lip.”

Saeyoung got to his feet, his legs shaking enough to make his cheeks burn in shame. He wiped some of the blood away from his mouth, spitting the excess onto the ground in a frothy, pink glob. He turned to face the men, holding his chin high. He felt more tears burning in his eyes, but he held them in, refusing to so much as blink so that the movement wouldn’t let them escape. He would not cry because of them.

So this was who he had signed up to work with? This was his future? Two half-wits who liked to hit people in response to a little sarcasm. Was the whole world made of violence?

The one called Clover reached over, his hand moving so fast that Saeyoung barely had time to pull away, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid his grip entirely. Clover grabbed his bag, wrenching it off his shoulder so that the strap ripped and Saeyoung yelped in pain when his arm tilted in the wrong direction. The agent held it up, shaking it, before tossing it to Cadence. “Get rid of it.”

V stepped into the agent’s path, nodding politely. “No, I can take it.”

Cadence stared at him for a long, agonizing second before shrugging and handing the bag over, walking around V to come stand next to Clover. “You ready?”

He wasn’t talking to Saeyoung.

“Yeah, let’s get this over with and get the fuck out of here.”

Saeyoung wasn’t ready.

He darted forward, heading towards V. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he got there, but he had the insuppressible need to try. V was familiar, V was safe. V would protect him, V would find another way. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to go with these men who sneered and knocked him around. He didn’t want to meet their boss and find out if he was someone’s pet. He didn’t want to walk away from the church, from the two friends that he had made, from his brother. This was wrong. This had been a mistake. Saeran needed him.

A rough hand wrapped around the edge of his collar, yanking him backwards and into Clover’s arms. The soft cloth was pulled taught around his neck, and it dug into the skin there, cutting off his air and making his vision swim with splotches of green panic. He tried to squirm away, but it was no use. They dragged him back the way they had come, shoving him forward through the alley, his feet tripping on the ground so that he alternated between falling and stumbling. There was a pitch-black car waiting by the curb, the chariot that would carry him to his fate, drawn by horses of steel and carbon emissions.

They reached the car and threw the door open, and Saeyoung tried to run again, darting to the left and around the agent. Clover nabbed him once more, this time cuffing him upside the head for his efforts and wrapping his other arm around his stomach. His breath hitched as he tried to breathe, tried to scream, but his swollen lips got in his way and all that came out was a strangled cry. He reached his hand out, grasping the air and trying to close the distance between himself and V, who had followed them. He was clutching Saeyoung’s bag to his chest, his eyes filled with that same morose determination that he got when he had made a decision that he didn’t like. Saeyoung knew that look well. He had seen it every time V had backed down from a disagreement with Rika, allowing her reason to overtake his own. He had seen the same look every time they had talked about the agency, making the plans that were unfolding tonight. It would be the last thing he ever saw on his friend’s face.

“Don’t fight them. Remember what you’re doing it for.” V’s voice was harsh, his words crisp, and Saeyoung hated it.

He was thrown into the car, the door slammed as he crashed into the seat. He sat up, rushing to the edge, but there were no handles on the inside. All he could do was press his fingers against the glass, looking at V as the tears that he had been trying to suppress finally started rolling down his cheeks. V didn’t move, a statue, shimmering behind the layer of glass as the two agents got in the front of the car and switched on the engine. Saeyoung held his gaze, keeping his eyes locked on his friend’s as the wheels whirred into motion and started carrying him away. He hadn’t said goodbye. Not to Saeran, not to Rika, not even to V. He hadn’t gotten to say goodbye.

_I don_ _’t want to go._

The car turned a corner, and V disappeared. Saeyoung kept his forehead pressed against the glass, his face turned so that they wouldn’t see his tears. He closed his eyes, his mind immediately conjuring the image of Saeran, tucked in the bed they had shared since they were little. Now it would just be Saeran’s bed, until V and Rika saved him.

That was what he had done this for. He couldn’t be a happy family with them, but Saeran could. Saeran could take his place, take the life in the church that he had almost had. He could take the smiles and the joy, the prayers that made the world seem brighter. Rika would show him the way, and V would keep him on the right path. Saeyoung would find a different life. It might not be perfect, but he could still make the best of it, because whatever happened to him now didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because it was worth it. Saeran was worth it, and he would always be worth it.

He just…he wished that he had said goodbye.  


	2. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have a lovely chat during the car ride.

His lip was stinging, the dried blood along the split stretching every time that he grimaced. His palms were missing a good portion of their skin, too, but he tried to ignore it. He tried to ignore all of it as he watched the trees at the edge of the highway speed by, the moonlight catching against the tops of the branches to light them up as smears of deep green. It was blurry, and indistinct, like everything was when he didn’t wear his glasses. It made him wonder if his vision was sped up all the time, moving at the same rate as a car on the road, and that the spectacles slowed it back down to the pace that the rest of the world was stuck at. Maybe if he took them off time would carry him away, and he could bypass the rest of the years ahead of him to get to the finish line. He didn’t know what his prize would be, but it had to be better than wherever he was going now.

He had never been this far outside of town. He had taken a bus once, to the edge, and he had spent the day sitting on the bench below the rusted gazebo that served as the final stop for the route, staring at the foot of the mountains. Everything had looked empty, as though they lived in a bubble, and not one of the people that rushed around the city had ever ventured beyond the comfort of their roads and steel towers. No feet had tilled the dirt, no breath mixing with the frosted air. It was wild, and vast, and it had scared him. It still scared him.

The agents ignored him, which suited him just fine. He leaned against the cushioning around the top of the door, his knuckles indenting the side of his cheek. He watched the scenery around them change, fading from city to plains to mountains. It was too dark to see where they were going, but he wasn’t sure that he cared anymore. The only direction that he wanted to go was _back,_ but that wasn’t going to happen.

No reset button on this interface. It was forward or nothing, and he didn’t think that he was ready for nothing yet.

The silence in the car was acute as they slowed and turned off the highway, the car rolling through a thicket of trees that were close enough that Saeyoung leaned away from the windows, reacting to the proximity even though there was a layer of glass between him and the branches. When they were through the trees there was a narrow, paved road that wound around looming bundles of stone and granite, a path carved through the mountainside, designed to be invisible. He sat up straighter, trying to crane his head around to see what lay ahead of them, and Cadence noticed his curiosity.

He smirked, smug and irritating. “Almost there.” He sang the words more than he spoke them, lyrical and melodic despite the sarcasm laced over each syllable. Saeyoung didn’t say anything.

“We supposed to take him to Doc or Goldi?” Clover took one hand off the wheel to push it against his own chin, tilting his head until his neck popped. The cracks sounded like they echoed inside his thick neck, drum beats from vertebrae encased in muscle, a silent threat that required no intent to be effective.

Cadence snorted. “What do _you_ think?”

“Hey man, don’t act like it’s a stupid question. That’s a high quality motherfuckin’ query.” Clover grinned at the other agent. “He _is_ bleeding, you know.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t punch children, you fuckin’ creep.”

“Fuck you, you would have smacked him too.”

Cadence turned to look at him in the back seat, the man’s eyes full of intensity that made Saeyoung uncomfortable. “Probably won’t be the last hit you take in the face, Smalls.”

Saeyoung took a moment to look the men over, paying attention to them for the first time now that the panic of departure had subsided. At first glance they had seemed similar, both much taller and broader than Saeyoung could ever hope to be. They were like sets of suits that had been given life and personified, following orders from their diabolical fashion overlord. Now that he was closer to them, he could see that they weren’t the same.

Cadence was thinner, with delicate arms and a softer slope to his posture, his eyes hovering between honey-yellow and amber-orange. His jawline was rounded, and his hair was longer and kept loose around his face. It was brown, the same color as hot chocolate dotted with cinnamon, and he had a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose that had been washed out in the moonlight back at the church. He moved like a cat, and Saeyoung half expected a tail to twitch out of the back of his tailored pants.

Clover, on the other hand, was much thicker-set. His suit stretched around his biceps when he moved in the right way, and his fingers were thick and ungainly. If Cadence was a cat, then Clover was a bulldog, gruff and hulking, one second away from dropping to a growl. He had ash hair, like winter grass drained of all the green by the cold, and a square head that made him look dumber than Saeyoung had initially guessed. His eyes were stormy grey, and they were filled with irritation and disdain when he looked at anything except Cadence, and then his bowed lips would twitch into a smile that wasn’t threaded with mockery.

“Hey, Carrot-top. You gonna say anything, or did I knock you stupid back at the pickup point?” Clover met his gaze through the rear-view mirror, and Saeyoung swallowed back several scathing retorts.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

The agents glanced at each other, then burst into laughter, filling the car with booming mirth that Saeyoung didn’t share. He wanted to retaliate, to get under their skin and agitate them the same way that they were to him, but his lip still hurt from the last time his mouth had gotten away from him, and he didn’t know how long he would be sharing their company. If he had learned anything living with his mother for a lifetime, it was that silence was a weapon in its own right. Sometimes the only weapon he had.

“Shit, I hope you aren’t a pet, kid. Goldi would have to waste ages just to break that pissy streak of yours.” Clover wiped the edge of his eye, shaking his head. “Then again, some like ‘em feisty.”

Saeyoung swallowed, a tremor running up and down his spine. “Pet?”

Cadence slapped his partner in the shoulder, although Clover didn’t even flinch. “Stop fuckin’ with him.” He turned in his seat, gripping the leather as the car bounced down the road. “You aren’t a pet. Goldi hasn’t been in that trade in a long time.”

Clover snorted. “That you know of.”

“Oh? You have something you wanna share with the class, Cloves?”

“Nah, it ain’t like that. I bet Applejack could tell you some shit, though.”

Cadence rolled his eyes, settling back in his seat and ignoring Saeyoung once more. “The day that Applejack does anything of the like is the day we all get popped away in the rapture. Fancy angel wings to match our pretty, pretty white robes. I’d look good with a halo.”

Clover laughed, winding the car around a sharp turn in the road. “Yeah, uh-huh. Agent Cadence, patron saint of bullshit, seated at the hand of the holy fuckin’ ghost.”

“Shut up, Cloves, or I’ll tell this innocent wee lamb what you’re patron saint of.”

Clover glanced at him, narrowing his eyes, but the smile didn’t quite fade from his face.

“Are those your names?” Saeyoung sputtered the words out before he’d truly thought them through, then held his breath, hoping that they would sate his curiosity rather than mock him further.

“Yeah, my mom was real into herbs and spices or some shit. Didn’t they tell you not to ask about names?” Clover chuckled, shaking his head. “You’d think you would have figured it out. I thought you were supposed to be some kind of whiz kid?”

“Maybe he’s one of those savants. Brilliant at one thing but shit at everything else.” Cadence stretched, his body lankier as it reached its full height, a coil unwinding to spool across the soft leather of the seat. “Cadence and Clover are code names, and that’s all you ever need to know. You’ll get one when Indra gets a hold of you. So, what’s your specialty, kid?”

“Computers.”

Clover frowned, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “Hacker.”

“Chill, Cloves. It isn’t like Taps can come back for another round.”

Saeyoung, feeling bolder by their answers so far, leaned forward so that he was between the two front seats. “Who’s Taps? And Applejack? And Goldi? Are they part of the agency?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Clover turned towards him, glowering with enough force that Saeyoung instinctively recoiled. He didn’t do it fast enough, or far enough, though, and the man’s massive fist smashed into the side of his nose. It wasn’t a full-fledged punch, because that would have laid Saeyoung out cold, but it was enough to send him rolling into the backseat, smacking his head against one of the buckles for the seat belts that he wasn’t using.

Cadence sighed, sounding bored. “Let this be your first lesson, kid. Questions get you in trouble.”

Saeyoung groaned, rubbing the back of his head where the metal of the buckle had left a stinging scrape. He didn’t try to sit back up. It was easier to stare at the ceiling of the car while he waited for whatever they would find at the end of the road. His curiosity had been effectively cowed, and he no longer cared who those people were. Especially if they were all like Clover and Cadence. The world, it seemed, was full of assholes.

He remained that way until he felt the car roll to a stop, Clover cutting off the engine and turning around to face him. “You gonna give us trouble? Because I will knock your ass out cold. I ain’t playing tag with some goddamn hacker.” Saeyoung shook his head, and Clover glowered. “I mean it. You make me chase you, I’ll break your fuckin’ leg.”

“Jesus, Cloves. Is murder your only setting?” Cadence chuckled, tilting his head so that his hair dipped to the side. He winked at Saeyoung, which felt more like bribery than backup. Cadence was not in his corner, even if he pretended to be with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He had proven that he was perfectly happy to watch Clover rough him up, and Saeyoung had a feeling that bruises and scrapes weren’t the limit to what Cadence would blithely allow. Saeyoung had a feeling there wasn’t a limit, at all.

Clover sniffed, rolling his eyes. “I said I’d _break_ his leg, not rip it off and beat him to death with it. Breaks ain’t murder.”

Saeyoung took a deep breath, sitting up to look them both in the eyes. “I won’t run. Let’s go.”

Cadence smirked. “Oh, little boy found his spine, I see. They grow up so fast.” He placed his hand on his chest, batting his eyes at Clover. “Listen, kid, word of advice? Don’t mouth off to Goldi. Her temper is a hell of a lot sharper than Clover’s, and she’ll do a whole lot worse than smack you around for it.”

“Ain’t nobody fuck you up worse than a pissed off Goldi. Crossin’ her is like crossin’ the fuckin’ devil.” Clover shook his head, somber and grim. Saeyoung didn’t say anything, but they didn’t seem to care, turning away from him to get out of the car. They opened the door for him and he stepped out, adjusting his pajamas so that he looked as presentable as he could. Cadence laughed as he watched, choking on the sound as he tried to muffle it behind his hand, turning away. Saeyoung felt a rush of heat across his cheeks, but he threw his shoulders back anyways, walking to stand next to Clover. He wouldn’t let them get to him.

They had stopped in front of an indistinct grey building. It seemed awfully small, standing in front of the mountainside so that it was dwarfed by the cliff walls. It looked like a toy, a dropped Lego block that had taken root in the grass and grown, as wild as anything else around them but obstinately angular. The door in the front was unmarked, painted the same color as the walls, and locked with a keypad that had a solitary red light on the top. Clover and Cadence started walking towards the entrance, and Saeyoung trailed behind them, careful to keep up enough so that they wouldn’t think he was considering bolting. It wasn’t like he had anywhere to go even if he did, and he had no doubt that Clover would follow through with his threat if Saeyoung were stupid enough to try. He couldn’t escape, anyways. If he disappeared, then Rika wouldn’t get the money for his purchase, and then she wouldn’t be able to save Saeran.

It was easier to deal with these assholes when he reminded himself what he was doing it for.

Cadence fished a metal rectangle out of his pocket and stuffed it in the lock on the door. The baleful little light turned yellow, and Saeyoung heard the gears inside whir to life as it read the information on the key, then it turned green and there was a loud click as the bolt slid out of the housing. The door swung wide, and he looked through the opening into a dim room with a stairwell leading down into darkness.

“Home, sweet home.” Cadence strolled into the room, winking again, and Saeyoung was beginning to hate him for the expression. He turned it into an insult, and Saeyoung could feel the intent behind it every time. He kept his mouth shut about it, though, staring at the room as his feet remained rooted to the spot. Clover raised an eyebrow at him until Saeyoung relented and walked forward, into his future, and then the hulking man followed and shut the door behind him. The thud of the lock sliding back into place was thunderous in the quiet.

Home, sweet home. The same kind of home that he had come from, the same kind that he thought he was escaping. A home where people still smacked him for speaking his mind, a home where the locks on the doors were meant to keep the occupants in more than they were to keep intruders out. A home full of dingy darkness that seeped into the daylight to make everything turn grey and drab. Saeyoung didn’t think there was another kind of home. Not for him.

Not before, not now, and not ever. Grey had always been the best that he could hope for, and he would have to learn to accept that.

_Welcome home._


	3. 707

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Indra, and Saeyoung picks a new name.

The stairwell led down into a narrow hallway, and Cadence moved to walk behind him as they led him through the unlit passage. It reeked of molding paint, the same smell he had always imagined a crumby prison would have, water leaking from the walls like they were mortared with rainclouds. These walls weren’t leaking, but they seeped a dampness into the air that made it feel heavy as it clambered into his lungs. He couldn’t draw a full breath, and half of each lungful kept sticking to the back of his throat. It made him dizzy; it made his lip sting more. It made him want to turn around and leave, to try running after all. Maybe if Clover broke his leg, he would pass out from the pain. That might be better than the panic thrumming in his head like a swarm of furious bees.

There was a door at the end of the hall, and Clover rapped his knuckles against it lightly. The handle twisted, and it was opened by an incredibly tall woman who looked at Clover with imperious intensity that would have melted a lesser man into a puddle of worthless fear. She had eyes that were yellow, like a cat’s, and full lips that looked like they had been crafted by a sculptor for the specific purpose of frowning. She had dark, dark skin, and long limbs, muscled and graceful. Even though she was unmoving, it still seemed as though she were in motion, every part of her humming with activity that was waiting to be unleashed. She wore a floor-length dress that curved around her like liquid amber, yellow and gold meshed together so that she was draped in honey. Her eyebrows were arched above the golden glimmer she had dashed across her eyelids, and one of them rose skyward as she took in the three of them standing in the hall. What Saeyoung liked best about her was her hair, though, a cloud of black curls atop her head that spread out in every direction, a storm that served as a crown. He would not have been surprised if she had announced herself the queen of golden thunder, as dangerous as she was beautiful.

Cadence walked around him, coming to lean against the door frame. “Lady Indra, you look ravishing, as always.”

Her lips twitched, but other than that her expression remained unchanged, her high cheekbones as still as a statue. “Agent Cadence. I see you return, yet again.” She sounded less than enthused to be talking to him, and her words were accented in a way that Saeyoung had never heard before, flowing to a different tune than he was used to.

“Aw, don’t be like that, baby.” Clover leaned forward, sneering in her face. “You know we always come back for you.”

“Agent Clover.” A deep voice echoed from the room behind them, carrying with it the authority of someone who considered themselves infallible, and Saeyoung saw Indra smirk as Clover stood up straighter, flinching. “That sounded dangerously close to flirtation.”

Clover swallowed, shaking his head. “No, ma’am.”

“Yeah, it was just the wind.” Cadence rolled his eyes, then pushed past Indra into the room. When she moved out of his way, Saeyoung was able to look in and see the woman that had spoken. She was heavyset, seated in a chair whose legs were bowed beneath her weight. Her face was painted in various shades of pink, making her look like a misshapen doll beneath the layers of golden curls piled on top of her head. Her eyes were blue, and shrewd, and she was looking at Saeyoung like she wanted to open his chest to dissect all his secrets. He took a step back, recoiling from the intensity of her regard, and this seemed to amuse her, because she smirked.

“We brought the kid, ma’am.” Clover reached back and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward and into the room, past Indra, who rolled her eyes before closing the door.

The blonde woman arched an eyebrow. “So I see.” She was still looking at him, still observing every movement he made, cataloging it for future study, for future use. “Would you care to explain his lip, Agent Cadence?”

“Me?” Cadence crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall in the back of the room. “That bruise is clearly shaped like Clover’s fist, ma’am.”

The woman turned her head, glaring at Cadence. “And yet I asked to hear the report from you. If you want to start delegating that task, I would be happy to find something else for you to do.”

“No, ma’am! Sorry.” He cleared his throat, his cheeks turning red. “The kid was mouthing off, tried to run, so Clover had to rough him up a bit. Just to get him to behave.”

“No, I tried to run _because_ you hit me.” Saeyoung glared at Clover, his hands balling into fists. Part of his brain was warning him that speaking up was a terrible idea, but his mouth took off before it had finished the thought. He was exhausted from lack of sleep, from hours of tension in the car, from ignoring the stinging in his lip and palm. He didn’t have a lot of patience left, and he wasn’t going to waste it listening to these assholes lie about beating him.

Clover clicked his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head. “He’s a mouthy one, Goldi. Been sayin’ stupid shit since we picked him up.”

Indra strode past him, pushing his chest so that he fell back against the wall next to Cadence. “Your assessment was not requested, agent Clover. Please refrain from speaking out of turn.” She continued on her path, picking up a clipboard at the edge of the desk and an expensive looking pen along with it. She turned to face Saeyoung, her gaze passing over him and through him as she poised the pen above the paper.

“Well, let’s get a look at you.” Goldi returned her attention to Saeyoung, drawing in a deep lungful of air. “Roughly thirteen -”

“I’m fourteen.”

“Silence.” Indra rapped her pen against the clipboard, shaking her head in disapproval. Goldi ignored the entire exchange, continuing onward without missing a beat.

“- too thin by half. Doesn’t look an ounce over one-ten. I want him on a strict diet to bulk him up, talk to Doc about the regimen - he’s already aware it was a possibility. Check his eyes and see how necessary those glasses are, and determine if we need to replace them.” She paused and frowned, narrowing her eyes. “Scratch that, replace them, I don’t trust any bullshit he brought with him. Burn anything he’s wearing, replace it immediately. His education begins tomorrow. You have his curriculum prepared, Indra?”

“Of course, ma’am. You had selected the accelerated path. I give my word, we will have it completed on schedule.” Indra didn’t stop writing as she spoke, the pen flying across the page like it was dancing.

“Good. Though I expected nothing less. Have him in for his physical at dawn, and make sure Doc knows I want a full report for the time frame we can expect on his training. I expect expediency, but quality first.”

“He’s never gonna last through training, look at him.” Clover snorted, chuckling and elbowing Cadence in the shoulder. “He’s like eight toothpicks in a flesh-bag, he’ll splinter after an hour.”

Indra stopped writing, turning to look at Clover with a smile that was poison. “Agent Clover, should your opinion be desired, you will be informed. Until such time, please keep your rectangular jaw firmly closed, or I will sew it shut with wire to ensure no more useless idiocies can escape.”

Saeyoung had to bite his lip to hold in his laughter, and Indra met his eyes for just a moment, alight with mirth that was gone after a few blinks. She recomposed herself and continued writing, jotting down meticulous notes based on what Goldi had said.

“Indra, you may take him to his room now. Make sure he knows the rules. When you’re finished, return to me with his name, and then I have another task for you.” Goldi waved her hand, dismissing them both before she turned to stare at Cadence. “As for you chucklefucks, stay a moment. You have a new job.”

“Goddamn, Goldi, we just got back!” Cadence sighed, uncurling from his place against the wall and approaching the desk.

“Save the complaints for someone that cares, agent.”

Indra walked forward, placing her hand on his shoulder and turning him around. Her touch was light, a guide rather than a push, putting him at ease as she ushered him out of the room and away from the people still gathered there. She led him down the hallway towards one of the branches they had passed earlier, and they wound their way through corridors that all looked the same. Nondescript, grey, dark. Just like his future.

Her heels clicked against the floor, and as she walked she started talking without looking at him. “Welcome to the Agency. Don’t bother telling me your name, because you no longer have one. You have no past, no present, and no future. You no longer exist. You are nothing more than a shadow, and you are to maintain that anonymity above all else. You are allowed no personal relationships, no family, and no friends. The beginning and end of your life is your service to the agency, and you will do so with loyalty and aplomb or you will suffer the consequences. Goldilocks is your new god, and her word is your new gospel. You will do as she says, when she says, and you will follow the rules without question.” She stopped in front of a door and reached into a small pocket on her gown, pulling out a key and unlocking the handle. She opened it, and inside was a drab, square room with a plain bed, a cheap desk, and a flickering light placed directly in the center of the ceiling. She gestured, and he rushed forward to enter, hearing her clicking heels follow him once he was inside.

She stood in front of him, flipping through the pages on her keyboard. “Hm. Scratch some of that. It seems you are permitted contact with Agent Five and any others that he deems appropriate.” The side of her mouth lifted in a lopsided smile as she tilted her head to look at him. “Congratulations. I’ve never seen anyone get special treatment before. I don’t recommend broadcasting that fact to anyone else around here.”

“Um, agent Five? I don’t think I know him…” he squirmed, her gaze making him nervous.

“I imagine you call him ‘V’.”

Saeyoung’s eyes widened to the point of pain. “V is an _agent_?”

Indra laughed, and it was like the low purr of thunder along the horizon. “Of sorts. Informant is more accurate. He is our liaison with a prolific client, whom never deals with us directly.” She flipped to another page on her clipboard, her eyes taking in the information with a single flick towards the document before returning to him. “Do you understand the rules of anonymity?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.” She smiled wider, clutching the clipboard to her chest. “Now, for the time being you will be living here, at Headquarters. We will provide everything that you might need or wish. If there is anything that you would like, please let me know and I will arrange for it to be delivered, or find a suitable compromise if it cannot be done.”

“Thank you.”

“Later, when you have been given leave, you can choose to live away from headquarters. It will be at Agent Goldilocks’ discretion when that may happen. Normally these things are allowed within a month or so of induction, however your age presents us with complications. I apologize for any inconvenience.”

“Um…thanks?”

“You will be working alone, until such time as Goldilocks would like you to work with a partner or team. She may make this decision immediately, or she may never make it at all. Should you be placed with a partner, you are to work with them seamlessly and effectively, but you are to form limited personal attachment. Goldilocks will punish any teams that she deems to be breaking the rules of anonymity.”

“How?” he blurted the question, feeling his cheeks turn red as she smirked at him. “How…how does she punish them?”

Indra pursed her lips, looking at him in silence for a long time. Long enough to make him fidget with his sleeves, to make him wish he were taller or smarter or less inquisitive, to make him wish that he wasn’t such a jittery mess. She had a commanding presence in the first place, but Indra with her face drawn into a reflective frown was the kind of thing that would make men confess their sins just to have it be done with, to have judgment passed so they could live or die by the verdict. Indra created limbo with the intensity in her eyes, and it was terrifying to behold.

When she finally spoke, he wished he had never asked at all.

“Creatively.” The single word said more than the syllables should be capable of, and he swallowed back the acid that had climbed up the back of his throat.

“Oh.” It was all that he could think of to say, but she seemed to expect that, and didn’t press him further.

“The trunk beneath your bed contains clothing that _should_ match your measurements. I did the best with the limited information I was given.” If it is not to your taste, we can exchange your wardrobe once you have completed induction tomorrow. You are to change out of what you are wearing immediately after I leave, and place everything that we have not provided to you in the hall. If you are found to have _anything_ that was brought in from the outside, you will be punished.”

“Creatively?” he grinned, and this time she had to purse her lips to keep from laughing.

“Just so.” She lifted her clipboard again, folding the pages back down and smoothing her hand over them. “Agent, please provide me with the codename that you would like to use. You can use anything but your real name, or any name you have been known by. I am not privy to that information at this time, but Goldilocks would know, so I do not recommend trying to be sneaky.”

He blinked at her. “I get to choose?”

“Yes.”

“Any advice?”

“I have none. This will be your name for the rest of your life. No one will know you as anything else. If you are looking for suggestions, the only thing I can offer is that you should pick something that…” she hesitated, her brows furrowing above her elegant nose as her eyes fell to the floor. She swallowed, her fingers twitching around the pen, the first nervous tick that he had seen from her. In that instant, he saw shadows beneath her effortless calm. He saw fear and worry, unhappiness rolling like storm clouds that couldn’t manifest without destroying her. She was human, she was fragile, and he never wanted to see her make that expression again. “You should pick something that reminds you of the person that you want to be.”

The person that he wanted to be? He wasn’t supposed to be a person. He had sold away his soul, traded it so that the world would shine light on his brother’s. Still, he wasn’t dead. He had to live with this decision, and he had to figure out what it meant to be alive in this strange new world he’d tumbled into. He had to be _someone_ , even if it was someone that didn’t get to be a real person, even if it was a living shadow that followed strict rules of anonymity. He was an agent now, so what kind of agent did he want to be?

He looked at Indra’s face, still downcast as she avoided his gaze. He thought about his brother, and how often he had made the same expression. Lost, sad. Hiding from the world because the world was made of fists that drove them into the ground every chance it got. Saeyoung had always wanted to be someone that was better than that. That was why he chose the name Luciel when he had been baptized. He wanted to be reminded of the darkness, of what happened to those that gave into it, and of what it could have been like if they had resisted. He had been Saeyoung, unloved and forgotten. He had been Luciel, fighting against Saeyoung’s fate. Who could he be now? What could he fight for this time?

He smirked, his cheeks rising as he tried to hold in his smile. “707.”

She looked at him, tilting her head in curiosity, her hair falling to the side. “707?” she tapped the pen against her full lips, the glitter from her makeup coming away and hanging on the metal. “I am not supposed to ask, but just between us…”

“It’s ‘LOL’ upside down.”

She giggled, and it made him feel like he had won a treasured prize. Both his names had always brought sadness. Either to himself or those around him. They represented struggle, and wars that could never be won, only tied off and ignored. This, though, would remind him of his other half. Saeran was out there, in a world that was upside down from the one Saeyoung had stepped through. Saeran would be laughing and smiling, and every time someone called him 707 he would remember that.

“You’re a strange kid, 707. Alright, that was everything we needed to cover this evening. I will return at dawn to escort you to see Doc. I suggest you use the few hours until then to sleep, you look like you could use it.” She reached out and ruffled his hair, setting it askew atop his head. Then she walked out of the room, her long legs swaying in a rhythmic pattern that made her heels sound like drumbeats.

“Hey, wait!” he stepped forward just as she crossed the threshold of the door, half lifting his hand as though he could have stopped her. She did pause and turn, raising an eyebrow again in a silent question. “Where is your accent from?”

She laughed again, shaking her head. “You should not ask personal questions, Agent 707, but perhaps one day I might tell you.”

Then she left, a bounce in her step that made her hair look alive, and he was left alone in the room beneath the faded fluorescent bulb above his head. He sighed, closing the door and sloughing off his clothes. He dragged the trunk out from underneath the bed, unlatching it and throwing the lid open. There was a collection of jeans and t-shirts, a few buttoned tops, and a handful of cotton sweats. He grabbed the sweats first, throwing them on before taking the pile of things that used to be his and throwing them outside the door, as he had been instructed. He stood there with the door handle clasped in his hand for a moment, debating whether or not ‘all’ included his glasses, and in the end he decided that it was better to be safe than punched in the face again. He took them off and tossed them onto the discarded heap of fabric, then shut the door and flicked the light off.

He made it to the bed and collapsed face first into the pillow. It was softer than he had expected, the fabric scented with something fresh and mellow that reminded him of clouds on a sunny day. He breathed deeply, letting the muscles in his limbs relax one by one, letting the chill in the room settle around his skin until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He flipped, crawling under the covers and laying on his back, staring at the ceiling that he couldn’t see without the light.

In the dark, it was hard not to notice how scared he was. His heart trembled in his chest, pushing blood through his veins that was lit up with tension. He was in the hands of people that he didn’t know, and there was nowhere to go. No place to hide, no way to resist. Before, living with his mother, he had always had the hope that one day he would escape. That one day he would be free, and he could live the life he had always wanted. Now, though, that wasn’t true. It had been sinking in slowly since he had first seen Clover and Cadence loom out of the shadows, and now that he was alone with his thoughts he recognized it for what it was. This was all there was to his life now, and he didn’t even know what it was going to look like. More beatings? Working with people that would smack him every time he cracked a joke? Would he grow to fear them, or just get angry?

Worse still, he knew that soon Saeran would be waking up for the first time without him. He knew that the fear that he held for himself would pale in comparison to the terror that would wrack his twin.

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears break out of the corners to run down his temples. He had to stop thinking about it. He had to put it out of his mind. Saeran would be happy now. Sure, he would wake up afraid, and he would be sad for a while, but Rika and V would make sure that he smiled again. They would love him now, because Saeyoung couldn’t.

No. Not Saeyoung. 707. He was a number now, a symbol. Something that could make people laugh. As he drifted off to sleep, he imagined pieces of himself falling away, drifting into the darkness and disappearing. He imagined that he was a blank slate, capable of being anything, and as his dreams arrived he prayed that they could show him what he could be from now on. He would dream of Seven, defender of justice, artificer of smiles, and then in the morning that would be the person he would become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers* don't do it. Don't love the characters.


	4. Miss Jamaica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we time skip a bit, and Clover is still perfectly pleasant and lovely.

“You will not find the solution staring at your desk, Agent Seven.”

Indra’s voice carried with it the faintest traces of amusement, and he knew that she was probably smirking at him, but he couldn’t see it because he had planted his forehead firmly against the wood grain of the table. It was cool, and calming, and he needed that right now or he was going to get up and start ripping his textbooks to shreds. Seven’s brain felt like it was melting and preparing to leak out of his ears, and his jaw hurt from clamping it shut around sarcastic retorts, because Indra didn’t need to put up with his bullshit.

This was the same point of mental exhaustion he often found himself reaching towards the early evening. The schedule for his studies was relentless, and his opportunity for breaks was nonexistent. He ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner while reading or typing or scrawling numbers across a page. This happened every day, all day, with no reprieve based on season or celebration. Goldi, it seemed, had never heard of summer break. Or, as was more likely, she just didn’t give a shit.

“There is no solution.” His voice echoed in his ears as it bounced off the desk in front of his mouth, ringing and hollow. “It’s an abstract representation of tangible existence, in which we attempt to use numbers and letters to explain the mysteries of our universe. The equation itself is a lie, and therefore has no relevance.”

“Hm. Accurate, if somewhat morose.” Indra’s heels clicked as she walked around the desk, and he could feel her standing over him. “How about you provide the intangible representation of a solution then?”

“How about I not.” He lifted his head, looking at her with the biggest puppy eyes that he could muster. “Can’t we take the rest of the day off? I’m starving. We could go get burgers or something.”

Her eyebrow arched, an expression he had become painfully familiar with over the recent months. “Certainly, I would be happy to lounge about, frittering away the afternoon like a carefree child. Feel free to go take your proposition to Goldilocks, I’m certain she would love to hear it.” She was being sarcastic, of course, but the truth of the insinuation was enough to sober him up and snap him out of his existential crisis.

He would happily solve his thousandth calculus problem if it meant avoiding a talk with Goldi.

“Fine, you win. The alteration of the height at time of _t_ would affect the _h-_ intercept, the maximum value of _h,_ and the _t-_ intercept. Also, my sanity, for what it’s worth.”

She smiled, her lips painted in a deep ruby today that looked like glossy candy. It offset the pretty turquoise above her eyes. “Very good, though your sanity is tremulous at best if this equation is what bested you.”

“Ugh.” He leaned back in his chair, letting his head fall to its limit as he glared at the ceiling.

“Somebody sounds cranky. Did little baby miss his naptime?”

Seven narrowed his eyes before he had even turned to look at the speaker, knowing that he would see Clover looming in the doorway like a bad omen. Sure enough, there he stood, just as square and oafish as he always was. The gash on the side of his face had healed over the last month or so, turning into a white scar that ran down his cheek like a crack in a mirror. Cadence mocked him for it, but Clover was in love with the damn thing, telling everyone that would listen that he looked like a _real_ spy now. Seven did have to admit it made him look more formidable. At least, it did to everyone that had seen him nearly piss his pants when Goldi got in a sour mood. 

“Agent Clover.” Indra’s words carried with it more disdain than any one woman should contain, and she crossed her arms over her chest as she looked at Clover. “I was unaware that you had returned.”

“Indra.” Clover doffed an imaginary hat, laughing when it made her frown deepen. “Goldi says she wants to talk with you.”

She frowned, brushing a stray curl of hair away from her face. She turned to face Seven, absently gesturing to his work. “Finish the rest of the equations, I will review them when I return.” She waltzed out of the room, her heels the rhythm of her exit as they clicked down the hallway. Seven wished he could have followed her, to see what Goldi wanted, to hang out somewhere else, to do literally anything but be left in a small room with Clover.

Luck was not on his side, though. It rarely was.

Clover chuckled, strolling over and staring at the page of math on the desk. Seven shrank away from him, hunching his shoulders, as though being smaller might make him leave him alone. “Math, huh? I bust my ass doing real work, and you’re all cozy and snug doing _math._ ”

Seven didn’t respond, staring at the desk. He’d been hit before for fighting back, he’d been hit for ignoring him, for trying to walk away. He flinched every time Clover moved, wishing with all his might that he would just _go away._ One of these days Seven would be big enough or strong enough to fight back, but right now he was useless. He’d been here nearly a year, and all he had learned was a decade of schooling, smashed into the smaller time frame by sheer force of will. He could try to use it to fight, but he didn’t think Clover would respond well to being pelted with the motivations and philosophical writings of Alexander Hamilton, nor would he cease his bullying by being offered the list of most influential members of Japanese politics over the last hundred years. Clover needed a good punch in the head, but all Seven had was a bunch of useless knowledge. 

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he leaned in close, his breath reeking of stale smoke that rolled off his tongue along with his words. Then he stood up abruptly, ruffling Seven’s hair. “C’mon kid, you know I’m just messin’ with you.”

Seven knocked his hand away, trying to push his errant locks back in place while glaring at Clover. “I’m not doing math by choice, you know.”

“There’s that mouth I remember. Shit, kid, you still look like you’re ready to spit nails half the time.” He pulled a piece of gum out of his pocket, tugging it out of the wrapper and popping it between his lips. “One of these days Goldi is gonna pull your ass out of this school bullshit. Then you’re gonna be toast.”

“I can handle it.” He kept his face carefully composed, refusing to let any expression besides the sullen glower pass over his features. He would not show this asshole fear. He would not show him doubt.

Clover laughed, pressing a hand to his stomach like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. “Like shit you can. I’ve started a betting pool. Most people agree you’re gonna be crying for your mommy within ten minutes.”

Seven snorted. “I can guarantee that won’t happen.” He said it with more vehemence than he had meant to, giving too much of his inner turmoil away. He snapped his mouth shut, biting down on his tongue to keep it from doing anything else treacherous.

Clover leaned forward again, splaying his hands across the top of the desk. “Aw, I hit a nerve. Baby Seven not get loved by his mommy? That why you ran away from home?”

“Agent Clover,” they both turned to see Indra standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, pen clasped in one of her fists, “that sounded like a personal question.” She was furious, and Seven let out a small sigh of relief that she had returned, saving him from further torment. Clover never bothered him when Indra was around.

“You’re mistaken. I’d never ask a personal question.” Clover took a couple lazy steps forward, grinning in such a greasy way that he could have fried potatoes on his expression. “I’d never look into the past of another agent, _Miss Jamaica_.”

She moved so fast that Seven could have blinked and missed it. Indra flipped the pen in her hand upright, skipping across the room and shoving Clover against the wall with enough force that he grunted as the air whooshed out of his lungs. The pointed, ink-covered tip of the writing utensil didn’t seem as benign as she held it to the bigger man’s jugular vein, ink trailing across his skin as his throat bobbed when he swallowed. His eyes were dark as he sneered at her, but he didn’t try to swerve out of her grip. Their standoff filled the room with tension, snapping in the air like live electricity, and he didn’t breathe as he watched it unfold. Seven had never seen Indra so pissed off, her entire face contorted in rage, her cheeks dark cherry as she pressed her elbow into Clover’s throat.

“I would ask where you heard such a thing, but I do not actually care. Speak of anything about me again, and I will become your worst nightmare.”

“You can’t touch me.”

“No? Agent Clover, would you like to report on where you were at eight pm, three days ago?”

Clover paled, his already white skin draining of any lingering color until he looked like a blocky ghost shoved against the wall. “You wouldn’t.”

“Do you dare to test that theory?”

Clover shoved her away, dusting off his jacket and glaring at Seven, who was worried his eyes might fall out of their sockets because they had grown too wide. Clover clicked his teeth together, rolling his shoulders as he stalked out of the room, carrying the ominous tension with him. When he was out of sight Indra sighed, turning and leaning against the wall. Her arms fell to her sides, the pen flipped in the correct direction and limp in her fingers. She stared at the floor, golden eyes glistening even as she arranged the features of her face to look as impassive as possible. He wanted to say something. He had questions, but they didn’t seem important when her shoulders were slumped like that. What he wanted to say was something that would make it better, that would make her return to the composed woman that he had come to know. He wanted to remind her of the person that she wanted to be, and erase whatever past Clover had insinuated was hers.

He cleared his throat. “So, do I get to be trained to kick ass with a pen like that, or what?”

_Bingo._ Her shoulders shook as the smile cracked across her face, her eyes losing their over-bright quality as the laughter broke from her chest and poured into the room. “For you, Agent Seven, I can spare a few tips.” She pushed herself away from the wall, standing to her full height, straightening her posture as her heels carried her across the room. She came to stand over him, looking at the page of uncompleted math equations. “I see you have allowed yourself to be distracted by Agent Clover.”

“He’s an asshole.” Seven furrowed his brows, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at nothing and everything at once.

“He is your colleague.” She tapped her pen on the desk, shaking her head.

“What? Are you defending him? After what just happened?”

“I defend no one, but neither do I disparage them. We are all of the same agency, Seven.”

“Yeah, and some of us are a lot less sucky than the others. I stand by my statement. Clover is an asshole.”

She turned, looking at the doorway without seeing it. Seven could tell that her gaze had left the building, going straight through time to something in her past. “Clover is a man doing the best that he can with what has been given. As are we all.” She drew in a long, slow breath, then shook off the remainder of her pensive episode, looking down at him sternly. “You need to finish these equations immediately, Seven. I’ll not have you slacking, for any reason.”

He swallowed his sigh at the expression on her face, picking up his pencil and resuming his work without comment. That was probably the least that he could do for her, after what had happened. He did the equations, completing them with ease because calculus was child’s play and he had been fluent in mathematical languages months ago. Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about what he had seen, or what Clover had said.

_Miss Jamaica_. Seven had been trying to place her accent for a full year, since he had first arrived, and now he finally knew. It had been a game between them, something that he would bother her about when he was bored. She would always laugh, or smile, shaking her head and telling him that she would never honor uninformed guesses with a true answer. She told him to research, knowing full well that he would never have time to do so, knowing that the only way he would figure it out was if she told him. He hated that he had found out through Clover. He hated that it hadn’t been something that Indra had shared with him, like she had promised. He hated that it was stolen information, pilfered by his ears for no other reason than he had happened to be in the room while Clover was being a massive shit head. He hated that their game would be over now, and that him having the knowledge might make her uncomfortable.

Mostly, though, he hated not being able to know more, and he knew that now he would never be given leave to ask.

***

_Stories. That_ _’s all some of us will ever get to be._

_That was almost all that I got to be, but there were people along the way that kept me from becoming another dotted line on the page. I don_ _’t know what I would have done without them._

_The first of these was V. Leaving Saeran had felt impossible, but I remember trying to take strength from what V told me as I was dragged away to my new life. I was scared. I was fourteen and didn_ _’t know shit about the outside world, and part of me knew that, so when the two guys showed up to haul me off I freaked. It earned me a couple of painful lessons, and a lot of introspection that I hadn’t expected. Still, V had been there, telling me that it would be okay. He had stood there and reminded me what it was all for, that I was doing it for Saeran, and that was important, or it felt like it was. It was the bravest thing that I could think of. I felt like a hero, giving up everything that I knew for my brother. Self-sacrifice, the most noble of actions. I suppose that I learned that from V, now that I think about it. I never had a father while I was growing up, so I latched on to V to serve that purpose. He was too young for that burden, and I think it bothered him. I was always a heavy heart to carry, to all those around me._

_I_ _’m lucky I found a few people willing to deal with it, even if it took me awhile._

_The agency was not what I had expected. Goldilocks - known to most of us as Goldi - was a rigid boss who was always more concerned about calculating cash flow, power, and risks than she was about the people who were doing her dirty work. I rarely saw her in my early days. Clover and Cadence showed up often, though, and they were the bane of my existence that first year. Our initial meeting set the tone for our entire relationship: shitty. They didn_ _’t get much opportunity to hit me anymore, but they resorted to verbal jabs to make up for it. My very own schoolyard bullies, only it was two grown men who were twice my size. Cadence didn’t bother hanging around much, but Clover acted like it was his favorite past-time to come torture me, going out of his way to track me down. I hated him. I had wanted to do terrible things to him, to make him leave me alone. I had wished that he would go out on a job and never come back…_

_Now that I look back on things, I feel terrible for that wish. I didn_ _’t understand, because it was too early. I hadn’t started working yet. But that doesn’t make it any less shitty. Now I know that disappearing is the worst thing that can happen to someone, and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy._

_Even after all the torment, I hope that Clover got out of everything alive. I hope he still exists somewhere._

_Indra, though, was my saving grace from the beginning. She was a bad-ass in every way that she could be; smooth, calm, with a biting tongue that was a lot more sarcastic than she liked to let on. She towed the line for Goldi like nobody_ _’s business, but when the boss’s back was turned she became much softer, much kinder. She used to bring me cookies on the tougher study days, when she knew I was frustrated at the nonstop pacing that had been set for me. It was just a cookie, nothing more than sugar rolled into a dough and baked in an oven, but it felt like it meant a lot more than that. It was like a secret message between us, a note that said ‘I see you, and I am fond of you’, even if that sort of thing wasn’t allowed. I remember wanting to know everything about her, but for the first time I had met someone that I respected enough to keep my mouth shut. That was not how things worked in the agency, anyways. In the real world, you meet people and you get to know them by asking about their past, about what they do from day to day. In the agency, you met people and got to know them in the minute. Where they came from and where they were going were off limits._

_Indra was my stability before I started training. She was my teacher, but I also considered her my friend. For two years she was my only consistent companion, a constant in my life that wasn_ _’t painful or abusive. This set her apart from the other agents, and I assumed that it would always be that way, that my days at the agency would never differ as long as she was around._

_Goldi, of course, had other plans._

_Goldi always did._

 


	5. Cinder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seven meets his new trainer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO. I AM ALIVE AND HAVE NOT ABANDONED MY WORKS. Notes at the bottom of the chapter for explanation, for those interested. ^_^

She cleared her throat, flicking on the light switch in his room with practiced precision. He could hear how perfectly manicured her fingernails were by the way they clicked against the plastic fixture on the wall. He didn’t have to lift his head from beneath the pillow to know who it was. Indra exuded impatience and efficiency, rhythmically filling the room as her heels snapped against the cold floor. He groaned, trying to bury himself deeper into the covers, though it wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good if she was intent on waking him. It was definitely too early to start studying, so there was no reason that she needed to get him out of a bed a minute sooner than necessary. He knew that it drove her nuts that he would stumble from sleep to learning with no more than a few bleary blinks in between, but Seven took down time wherever he could get it. It wasn’t like anybody else was jumping to make sure he got some otherwise.

A low chuckle that was definitely _not_ Indra’s drifted through the layer of pillow stuffed against his ears. “I see you let him keep his lazy streak. Lady, baby, you know I’m gonna have to sweat it out of him now. He’s gonna get all juicy and smelly, like the opposite of one of them gums with the zebra stripes.”

“Ugh, that brand already tastes like dehydrated sweat. I think you mean Juicy Fruit, which has nothing to do with zebras.” Indra’s voice was full of humor as she spoke to the stranger, and he could tell that she was smiling.

“Eh, that don’t matter. I’m still gonna have to yell extra. My throat’s gonna hurt.” He sighed, beleaguered even as it was laced with sarcasm. His accent was thick, and decidedly Latin American, something near the vicinity of Brazil if Seven wasn’t mistaken. “Look at him, he’s all scrawny and gangly. You couldn’t make him do some pushups while he learned all that algebra or whatever? Man, why you always gotta make me work harder, eh?”

Seven yanked his head from under the pillow and turned to stare at the blurry figures standing in his room. It was easy to recognize Indra, even without his glasses, but he had never seen the stranger before. Though this wasn’t surprising, since he hadn’t met many other agents outside of Cadence and Clover. The newcomer was tall, almost as tall as Indra was, and he looked like he had been the byproduct of a freight train that had copulated with a solid brick wall. Seven blinked, then fumbled for his glasses and missed, sending them clattering onto the floor.

“Oh good. Coordination. Indra, why you play me like this, huh? You could have at least made him balance all those books on his head or something.”

“I do not recall Goldi instructing me to make your job easier, Cinder.” Indra sounded like she was still smiling as she spoke, which was a rarity when she was dealing with other agents. Normally she scowled until they went away, and it was even more rare for her to use their code names, especially not so informally. Seven leaned over, slapping his palm against the ground as he looked for his glasses, trying to process the situation and wake up at the same time.

The man snorted. “Goldi don’t never make my job easier. I’m pretty sure she’s just waiting for me to kick the bucket so she doesn’t have to keep paying my crippled ass.”

“You and I both know if that were true, you wouldn’t be standing here.”

“Everybody tells a _joke_ once in a while.” His tone dipped into melancholy, giving the phrase a much darker meaning than the words alone would imply.

“Cinder!” Indra’s indignation was immediate, and she slapped the man on the shoulder. “You aren’t a joke.”

“Lady, you’re too kind.” He bent at the waist and doffed and imaginary cap in Indra’s direction, and she sighed in exasperation but did not yell at him further.

Seven wrapped his fingers around his glasses, lifting them so that he could place them on his face. After a couple of blinks, he finally got his first real look at the man Indra seemed so familiar with, and to describe him as intimidating would have been an understatement. He was made of muscle, his biceps big enough to give Clover’s a run for their money. He had long black hair that was tied back in a ponytail trailing down his spine, and a square jaw that tensed and released as he clenched his teeth together. He had thin lips that quirked upward in a sardonic smile, and angled eyes that were the color of firelight, orange and gold with a molten sense of curiosity burning within. He was dressed in loose sweat pants and white tank top, both pristine and free of stains so that he looked like a model for Nike. The shirt was thin, and Seven could see the brilliant black ink of a massive tattoo through the stretched cotton. It started on his upper back, wrapping around his shoulder and then extending all the way down until it disappeared beneath the hem of his pants, and from what he could see it looked like some kind of massive dragon or serpent. He stood with an uneven gait, keeping his weight off the leg just below the tattoo, and he was twirling a cane in his hand absently as he batted his long eyelashes at Indra.

Seven cleared his throat, nervous to draw attention to himself but unable to keep the question burning in his mind silent any longer. “Who are you?”

The man turned to face him, smiling widely. “Agent Cinder.” He snapped the cane in place on the floor and used it as leverage as he bowed, with all the reverence of a thief addressing nobles he was about to rob blind. “I’m the one who has to whip your ass into shape, now that Indra filled your head with all those smarts.” He straightened, leaning on the cane. It was an expensive looking thing, marbled all the way down and topped with an ornate silver handle. There were words engraved into the metal, but they weren’t in any language he could recognize. They didn’t look Latin American, though, as the script was not English characters. Hebrew? Arabic? Seven liked the way the letters looped and curved, like shifting sand given form and flow.

Indra clasped her hands together behind her back. “You are to begin your physical training today. You will spend your mornings and the majority of the afternoons with Cinder, and then report to me in the evenings for your studies.”

“Ay sweet Mary, he still has to hit the books?” Cinder whistled, clicking his tongue against his teeth, which were perfectly straight and gleaming white. “You must have been one bad mother in a past life to get that kind of karma, kid.”

Seven shrugged, unwilling to grumble about the schedule. “Not the worst thing I’ve been through.” It was true, and it made him sound tougher than he actually was, which suited him fine. Cinder didn’t need to know that he was using all his willpower to keep from flinching away from the imposing agent.

“Oh, is that right?” Cinder laughed, shaking his head. “Fiery little shit. I like it. Come on, get dressed. I’ve got the other one waiting on the field, she’s probably ready to claw your eyes out for making her stand out there so long.”

Seven tossed the covers away, throwing his feet over the edge of the bed. “Other one?”

“Yeah, you got a training buddy, new girl fresh out the streets. Tweety or Robin or some shit.”

Indra rolled her eyes. _“Wren_. Her name is Wren.”

“Right. Bird shit, or whatever. That’s what I said.”

“Honestly, Cinder, one of these days somebody’s gonna smack you for that mouth of yours.” Indra smirked, tapping her pen against her clipboard.

“That day come and gone, Lady. Though, can it be you next time?” he leaned towards her, using the cane as a pivot point so that he was gazing up at her with doe eyes. “Pretty, pretty please? You can smack me upside the head all day every day if you want. I might even shut up for a hot minute or two.”

Indra pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “I’ll smack you with a hatchet if you don’t watch your words.”

Cinder chuckled, returning to his upright position. “ _So_ spicy.” He flipped the cane in the air and tucked it underneath his arm, then clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms as a grin spread across his face. “Alright, Agent Seven- _Zero_ -Seven. Lesson one: I ain’t got time to wait around for your bullshit. I believe we asked you to get ready, and you should’a done _been_ that by now. _MOVE_.”

Seven jumped, nearly falling out of his half-lifted pants. He had been trying to be somewhat modest, since Indra was around, though it wasn’t as though this was the first time she had seen him dragged out of bed in his boxers. He hurried to comply with Cinder, not wanting to find out what happened when he pushed his buttons. Clover hadn’t had much opportunity to smack him around over the last two years, but Seven could still remember what it felt like. He wasn’t keen on having it happen again, nor was he keen on finding more people to do it. As exhausting as it was studying all day every day, it was still preferable to being beaten by someone older and angrier than he was.

“Cinder, please do refrain from working him to the point of exhaustion. We have advanced calculus this afternoon, and he gets existential when he’s tired.” She smirked at Cinder, then turned on her heel and left the room, without a word of farewell to Seven. He watched her go, wishing that she could come with him to whatever “physical training” would entail. She was a comfort in a world that still didn’t make a lot of sense to him. She was the symbol of stability, and now that was being swept out of the room with long strides and clicking heels, her dress flowing with her motion like liquid silk.

Cinder crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, she seems to like you.”

“I’m very likable.” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking, glaring at the ground. Damn. He’d spent too much time with Indra, who put up with his mouth. He had gotten too comfortable, only putting his guard back up when Clover came sniffing around looking to pick on him again. He tensed, buckling his pants and waiting for a fist or backhand to swipe across his face, a sneer or a cruel remark to come lashing form the tip of the man’s tongue. Nothing came, and he pulled his eyes from the ground to meet Cinder’s gaze.

“Yeah?” Cinder leaned forward, so that their noses were an inch apart. “You’re mouthy, but I like that. Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. You can mouth off as much as you want, so long as you do what I say, when I say it. You listen to me, then we got no problemo. You with me?”

Seven nodded, more intimidated by the look in the man’s eyes than anything that he had said. “Yes, sir.”

Cinder’s eyebrow rose and he leaned back, laughing. “Damn, boy. Someone kicked your ass real good before me, huh? You shaking like a little baby sheep. Look, I ain’t gonna hit ya, if that’s what you all shivery about. I got better ways of teaching lessons.”

“Yes, sir.” he had no interest in finding out what kind of lessons that Cinder could teach.

Cinder rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Seven’s shoulder and pulling him in close. “Stick with me kid, I’ll put some meat on them bones. Then maybe you can knock on the door of whatever bad dude cleaned your clock, and you can return the favor. Or you could light his house on fire. That’s what I usually do.”

“Light his house on fire?” Seven blinked at him, furrowing his brows.

“Yeah. Just make sure you know how to run faster than the flames.” Cinder clapped him on the back, then let him go, flipping the cane again until it pointed back towards the floor. He started heading towards the doorway, limping and using the ebony rod for support. He glanced over his shoulder at Seven, eyes narrowing, and Seven didn’t need him to speak to know what the look meant. He jumped forward, grabbing his shoes and stuffing them on his feet as he hopped after his new teacher. They headed down the hallways, towards the back of the complex and a long flight of stairs leading upward. Seven had never been to this part of the facility, but he could tell they were heading outside.

He wasn’t sure what training would entail, but the prospect of getting to get fresh air on a regular basis was enticing. He spent nearly every day holed up in his room, permitted access to the outside world through a computer screen and little else. He got to leave on rare occasions, but most of the time he was too busy. Visits to the bookstores to pick up new textbooks became the highlight of his month, and he hated the fact that they only happened once every four weeks. He missed the days where he could go wandering around town, looking for small things to pick up and take back home to his brother.

The thought of Saeran brought a pain so sharp and swift as it stabbed through his heart that it took his breath away. He closed his eyes, trundling up the stairs after his limping trainer and taking deeper breaths, pushing the emotions further into the back of his mind. Not today. He could mope another time, maybe on a day where he wasn’t about to start a new chapter in his rigid life. He could let his imagination wander and he could let thoughts of his brother’s presumed happiness fill his dreams another time. Today was for weary focus, for first impressions with people who, like him, didn’t exist.

He could mourn the loss of his life on a day where there was time for tears.

Seven opened his eyes and skipped up a couple steps, letting his thoughts trail into the philosophical as he pondered the mathematics behind the arc to each swing of Cinder’s cane. It was a distraction, but it worked. He calculated the velocity by measuring the speed against the estimated square footage of each step, throwing in a few variables to account for the effects of gravity each time Cinder spun it in a circle. He drowned himself in the things he knew, and he ignored the things that he didn’t.

Cinder shoved the door at the top of the steps open, and the early dawn air slapped against his cheeks as it rushed inside the quiet building. The wind brushed the last of his longing away, vanquishing it to the unexamined shadows in his multifaceted mind. Let it rot there, like the rest of the things he couldn’t think about. Let it hide away and leave him be. He had better things to do. Or at least more pressing things.

Seven stepped out onto the training field, and into phase two of his life as a secret agent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that this update took so long. Those of you that follow me on tumblr probably heard, but for those that don't: Last Monday I had some disagreements with an icy parking lot, resulting in a few falls and my extremely ungraceful defeat at the hands of snowy pavement. Long story short, I ended up with several injuries, most severe of which was a concussion. I was forbidden from writing and reading for about a week, which was awful. Listen, guys, I do not recommend concussions, they are not very fun. 0/10 would not concuss again.
> 
> In any case, I am back on the proverbial writing horse. I don't know if I will be able to do a chapter a day, but hopefully I can work back up to that pace again. Internet sources say the average healing time for people who don't know how to take it easy is ~100 days, so that's about how long it will probably take me because I have absolutely no sense of chill and am incapable of relaxation. :D I asked my doctor how long it would take, and he shrugged and looked at the wall with a wistful yearning in his eyes, stating only: "With these things, it's impossible to tell." ~MEDICAL MYSTERY~
> 
> Special thanks go out to jacquie_bebop (illneverrecover on tumblr) who has graciously agreed to beta chapters for me until I can be sure that my concussion has not made me a driveling idiot. (You guys should have seen the part of this chapter I wrote while I was concussed before I edited it. I made sentences that had no nouns or verbs. HOW??? It was a bad scene. I apparently did many strange things because I did not even realize I was hurt for 24 hours because I have very poor self-preservation skills.)
> 
> In any case, sorry again for the disappearance. I will try to catch up with comments sometime tomorrow, but I worked a full 8 hours today and wrote this chapter and I think the fact that I have lost all sense of balance means my brain is telling me to STFU and shut down for the evening. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE, AND I LOVE YOU ALL.


	6. This is not a real chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An update

Hey Guys!

 

 

I'm updating this to say that I have, in fact, recovered from my concussion, but this story is still on a temporary hiatus because I've gone on a tangent. I played Zelda: Breath of the Wild and now a fanfic is happening I COULDN'T HELP IT, I'M SORRY.

 

I will resume writing this one once that one is complete.

 

<3<3


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